


Family Ties

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Allergies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Neal has an unexpected medical problem (or two) while undercover, Elizabeth Burke steps in to manage the situation. She's got this, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the "fake relationship" square on my [](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)**trope_bingo** card. In my head it's kind of a pre-OT3 situation but that's really up to the reader. Thank you to everybody in chat who helped me figure this one out. (The non-recorded nature of chat makes it very difficult to thank the correct people, sometimes!)

It was date night at a very pricey Italian restaurant in SoHo, and as Peter settled into the booth across the the table from Elizabeth he did his best to stifle the guilt he felt for not being in the van that evening. Neal was undercover, which always put Peter's nerves on edge, but the case was unlikely to be dangerous or particularly complicated, and Diana and Jones would be monitoring him from the van. Peter trusted them absolutely, and he trusted Neal to take care of himself.

The suspects they were investigating were a pair of young women, both of them barely out of college, who appeared to be prodigies in the field of foreclosure fraud. Their sorority girl smiles disguised a callous disregard for their victims, but they were far less ruthless when it came to their personal lives. "George Mitchell" had moved into the empty apartment next door to their base of operations, and it took less than a week of his charming smile and perfect gentleman routine for him to begin to win their trust. In the interests of avoiding any kind of romantic complications with the suspects, George Mitchell was quite conspicuously gay.

There had been one dicey moment when the suspects had walked in while the team was finishing the surveillance set-up in George's apartment, but Neal had easily spun a story about Peter being the owner of the start-up George was working for and Clinton and Diana being the IT contractors who were setting up George's home office networking. Neal's story had apparently gone over just fine, but the result was that the suspects had seen their faces. Since then, Neal had been dropping heavy hints about George's contentious relationship with his boss so that they could assume he would be open to a better offer.

The women were extremely circumspect about their operations, but they were doing a good job of following the breadcrumbs the team had left for them to discover George's own shady history of suspected timeshare fraud. More than three-quarters of the pair's foreclosure fraud victims were older men, and it didn't take a criminal genius to see that there was a market full of women who would be far more likely to fall prey to George's charms. If Neal was right, they were days away from opening up to him about their scheme, which would get Peter's team the evidence to not only arrest the women but to make the convictions stick, no matter how young and seemingly-innocent they might look to a jury.

When Peter had left, the plan was for Neal to spend the evening with both of them--dinner in and a Project Runway marathon. In any case, Peter had little doubt that Neal would be safe.

Meanwhile, Peter was out to dinner with his wife who was very beautiful and very patient with the fact that they hadn't been out for a real night on the town in months. Diana and Jones knew that he didn't want to be contacted unless there was a true emergency or a major break in the case, and Peter didn't think there was any chance of either of those things happening. He ordered a pricey bottle of wine and let El catch him staring at her cleavage over the top of the menu. It was going to be a good night.

Peter was a few bites into his entree that, he had to admit, was considerably better than the ordinary chicken parm he liked to get at the neighborhood Italian joint, when his phone buzzed on his hip. The ambient music and noise of the restaurant was enough to cover the sound of the vibration, but El knew his tells.

"Go ahead and see who's calling, hon. It'll drive you nuts otherwise."

Peter sighed but had to admit it was true. The call had gone to voicemail by the time Peter looked at his phone, but it started to buzz again immediately--Diana. He made an apologetic face at El and accepted the call. "What's going on?" he answered, his voice pitched low to avoid attracting attention.

"I'm so sorry, Boss, but you'll want to know about this. Things had been quiet up there in the apartment, and then I don't know exactly what happened but something went wrong. An ambulance just came and took Caffrey away, and Coyne and Adams followed in a cab. Jones is trying to talk with EMS right now."

"Damn it. What the hell did those girls do to him?"

"If there were signs of violence you know EMS would've had the police here. Hold on, Boss." He heard the tap of her putting the phone down and beyond that only muffled voices.

"What happened?" El asked, her eyes wide and worried.

"I'm not sure yet." Peter tried to keep himself calm. It might not be anything, it might be some harebrained plan of Neal's. Or he might be in serious trouble. In danger. There was a clatter as Diana picked up her phone again.

"Okay, I don't have details, but EMS says he had some kind of allergic reaction. It sounds like it was pretty serious, but he's breathing and the bus is about to pull into the ER at Lennox Hill."

"I'm on my way."

"Wait. Boss, if this turns out to be minor and we blow the case over it there are going to be a lot of unhappy people, and that might not be great for Neal. And the suspects are going to know something's up if George's jerk boss is his emergency contact."

"Damn it." Peter knew she was right, but he didn't like it. "Okay, I'm on my way but I'll stay a couple blocks away from the hospital if he's doing well enough to keep the op running. You two stay in contact with the hospital, make sure they restrict his visitors to family, and keep me up to date. And get ERT up to check out the apartment but make sure they leave the place looking untouched."

"On it." Diana hung up, and Peter shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"Hon?"

Peter looked up to see El looking concerned rather than angry at the interruption; she had her purse open on the table in front of her. Peter hated to have to end their evening this way but there was no way he could sit in a restaurant when Neal was in danger. "Neal had some kind of serious allergic reaction, or something that looked like that anyway. They just got him to the ER, and I'm so sorry but I have to--"

El shook her head. "Don't apologize. Go get the car. I'll take care of the check and meet you out front."

"I love you." Peter slid out from the booth to stand up then bent and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of El's mouth. As he hurried to the front of the restaurant, Peter crossed paths with their server who appeared to have their check in hand--his wife worked damn fast.

Five minutes later, they were on their way uptown, Peter focused on finding the quickest path through the early evening traffic. When Diana called back, he put the call through to the car's hands-free system. "Tell me some good news, Di."

"It's not too bad. Medically, he's stable. They're not sure what the reaction was to, but they're treating it. But it sounds like--" Diana trailed off, and Peter squeezed the steering wheel in frustration.

"Sounds like what?"

"Like he's upset maybe? They'll only tell us so much. I know that they want to let 'George's friends' in to keep him company or calm him down or something, and it sounds like Coyne and Adams are hovering in the hallway, but so far the staff is keeping them out."

"We've got to get somebody in there. She's seen you, me and Jones, and some random FBI agent isn't any better than a random doctor or nurse. Damn."

"What about his squirrely little friend?"

"Mozzie's out of town," El chimed in.

"I don't know who else we can get involved." Peter couldn't decide what was worse, leaving Neal alone in the hospital or scuttling the whole undercover op over something that was likely to be resolved by morning. Peter the friend and Peter the agent had wildly diverging opinions.

"I would suggest Hughes, if he weren't on vacation." Diana sounded nearly as frustrated as Peter felt.

"You two are overlooking the obvious solution here."

Peter glanced away from traffic to look at El. "What do you mean?"

"What do the suspects know about Neal's supposed family?"

"Well, nothing. They know he's single, but 'George' is pretty cagey about his personal life."

"Good. Then send me in as his sister."

"Absolutely not! You're not an agent!"

"I'm aware of that, hon. But this isn't some gunfight with thugs in an abandoned warehouse. Neal's in a perfectly civilized hospital room, and from what you've said these women don't have any history of violence. I'd be as safe there as I am walking around the city every day."

"She has a point, Boss."

"Diana," Peter growled. "Hon, you're not his sister, and if they ask for ID your names won't match."

"Because I'm married, hello! We look more than similar enough to be related, and you know I can be very persuasive."

Peter sighed. "Yes, you can. Do you really want to do this?"

"Yes! Hon, I know you'd rather go in to see Neal yourself, but that would be a huge risk. With me, there's no risk at all. There's no reason for them to doubt that George's loving big sister is his emergency contact."

Nobody said anything for a minute, then Diana cleared her throat. "I'll let the hospital know that George has a family member on the way."

"We should be there in ten," Peter said, feeling defeated and worried, but also hopeful because El would do everything she could to make sure Neal was okay.

~~~

El looked in the visor mirror as Peter approached the emergency entrance of the hospital then shook her head at herself. Who was she trying to impress? She was Neal’s sister—no, George’s sister—and she’d been out to eat with her husband when the hospital called. It was as simple as that. She could only hope that Neal would be okay.

“Hon,” Peter said, sounding just as tied up in knots as he had since the phone call came in the restaurant, “I hate to ask this, but if you get a chance to talk to the suspects can you try to ask them what happened? Not like an interrogation, I mean, but—“

“I’ve got this. If I had a younger brother and he ended up in the ER, don’t you think I’d be asking his little girlfriends what the hell had happened?”

“Okay, right. Just remember little brother George goes for guys not girls.”

“Oh, of course.” El had forgotten that detail, but she wasn’t about to tell Peter that. “As his big sister, I knew even before he told me.”

Peter laughed, sounding just a little bit less worried. “Call me,” he said, as if there were any question.

“I’ll take care of things.” El stood up out of the car and smoothed down her skirt. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Peter said, and El would have climbed back in the car to kiss him if she weren’t so anxious to check on Neal. She gave him a smile that she hope was supportive then turned and hurried into the emergency room.

More quickly than she expected a nurse was leading her back through the maze of curtained-off cubicles. She restrained herself from glaring at the two girls, a blonde and a redhead, waiting in the hall, but allowed herself to think a few words that would shock her mother to death. She would deal with them later, for now she was more worried about Neal. When she walked through the curtain to see him, her heart broke just a little—he looked _horrible_ , curled up on his side with an IV in his hand and his other arm bent over his eyes.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, wincing at the pain in Neal’s eyes as he pulled his arm away and squinted them open.

“El—no,” he argued in a rough, quiet voice.

“ _George_ ,” she said with emphasis on the name, “do you think your _big sister_ could leave you alone in the hospital? Of course I came as soon as they called.” She took his hand and squeezed it gently. Neal blinked slowly a couple times then nodded. She bent and whispered in his ear, “Peter would be here, but the suspects are right outside in the hallway.”

“But your date.” He looked genuinely upset about interrupting their dinner, and El squeezed his hand again.

“Hush.” She looked out toward the hallway then whispered again, “Peter will pull you out from undercover if that’s what you want.”

He shook his head slightly. “No.” But he closed his eyes again, looking worse, pale with lines of pain around his mouth and eyes, and El was about to raise a fuss to get him some attention when a doctor entered. He reminded her of a tall version of Mozzie, and somehow that made her feel a little bit better about things.

“Ms. Mitchell?”

El held back a laugh—how funny that Neal’s identity had her maiden name, though it certainly wasn’t an uncommon name. She held out her hand to shake with the doctor and kept her voice quiet to match his. “I’m married now, but yes. Now what’s going on with my brother?”

“First off, he should be fine, though he’s very uncomfortable right now. It seems that earlier this evening George had a bad headache, perhaps a migraine, and one of his friends gave him a headache remedy that unfortunately contained aspirin, to which your brother is severely allergic.”

El looked over at Neal, who had his arm flung over his face again.

“His airway began to swell rapidly, and he nearly stopped breathing but EMS was able to administer epinephrine to stop that process. Unfortunately the medication had a side-effect of making your brother’s headache much worse.”

“Oh no!” El couldn’t help looking back at Neal again, miserable and hurting. “What can you do?”

“Well, we’ve given him an IV for hydration and medication to stop his vomiting. Your brother was also experiencing quite a bit of anxiety when he arrived, and the anti-emetic helped him relax as well.”

El took a step back and put her hand on Neal’s ankle, feeling the bone of it through the blankets. “Can’t you give him anything for the migraine?”

The doctor made an uncertain face, and El wanted to ask him why exactly he didn’t know what he was doing, but she forced herself to be patient. "Due to the medication reactions your brother has already experienced tonight, I’m reluctant to add anything else to his system unless we have to. We’re going to keep him here until morning to make sure he doesn’t have any further reactions, and hopefully by then his headache will be resolving itself as well.”

“Hopefully?”

“In any case, your brother should be just fine. Do you want me to let his friends in?”

“No, thank you. I’ll take care of them.”

The doctor left, and El went back to see if Neal had fallen asleep. She put her hand on his, and he shifted on the bed. “M’awake.”

“Okay. Did you hear what he said? Do you want me to harass them into giving you something for the pain?”

“No,” he said in his rough, weak voice. “I’m messed up enough as it is. And that’s what got me in here anyway. Just have to ride it out.”

“Okay,” El whispered again. “I’m going to make them leave. I’m not going to blow your cover but I’m your protective big sister for tonight, and I am not to be trifled with.”

Neal sighed. “But they’re supposed to be my friends.”

“Your friends, not your sister’s. It’ll be okay, just relax. Try to let yourself fall asleep, okay?”

“’kay.”

El pushed his hair back from his face, and that seemed to relax him so she continued to pet his hair while she used her other hand to text Peter. _He’ll be ok. Call you soon._

Neal seemed to be either asleep or in a relaxed daze, so El took the opportunity to go find Peter’s suspects. They were still waiting in the hallway, and El wished she knew if it was part of the con or if they actually cared. She wondered if they knew the difference.

“Jessica?” When the blonde turned to look, El gave her a perfectly polite and condescending smile, then turned it on the redhead. “Stephanie? Can you tell me what happened with my brother tonight?”

“We were supposed to hang out but he wasn’t feeling well,” Jessica explained in a fake little-girl voice that put El’s nerves on edge and dropped her opinion of the woman even further. _You’re not conning me, sweetheart._

“And I gave him one of my headache powders to drink because they’re the best, and they’re over the counter so I didn’t think it could hurt him.” Stephanie looked genuinely upset that she had almost killed Neal, but all that meant was that she wasn’t a total monster.

“Okay, well, that was a bad idea." El raised her eyebrows and looked back and forth between them. "Girls, thank you so much for taking care of my baby brother but you can go on home now.”

“Oh, but we’d really like to see him!” Stephanie protested.

“You’ve done more than enough, but George doesn’t feel up to any visitors. I’m going to take him to my house for a day or two, so if you could make sure his apartment is locked up with the lights off, we would really appreciate it.”

“Are you sure? We can wait.” A look passed between the girls, and it was clear that they had decided they needed George and were worried the opportunity would get away. Well, they could just wait a day or two for Neal to feel better, and whoever was pulling the strings above Peter could wait, too.

“Very sure. Go on ahead and get home before it gets any later.” El nodded toward the exit and crossed her arms over her chest, making it very clear that she wasn’t asking. Finally, with barely restrained angry looks, they left. El waited a moment and then followed to make sure they were really gone before calling Peter. He would take care of making sure they went home and stayed away from the hospital, and until Peter was done with that El would take care of Neal. He was family, after all.

~~~

Neal knew he should argue that he was okay and didn't need any help; in a way it was even true. The hospital would do their observation thing until morning, and he would be entirely capable of continuing an easy con with the trailing end of a migraine. He'd probably be able to hold things together enough to avoid making any mistakes, and worst case scenario these suspects were unlikely to dump him in the river with a cinderblock briefcase. Neal was tempted to like them at times, to feel guilty about deceiving them, but ultimately he did want to shut them down. He knew that his own moral high-ground was shaky, but aside from petty thefts when he was very young and very desperate any individuals Neal stole from were wealthy enough to absorb the blow. He stole their baubles and the art they didn't know how to appreciate, not their modest homes, and Neal had to believe there was a difference.

The evening had gone to hell with a speed Neal wouldn't have anticipated. He had taken a couple of Tylenol for the throbbing pain that had invaded his head and done his best to suck it up through TV night with the girls. When the pain started to be too much to ignore, Jessica had offered him her favorite headache cure, and through his half-screwed-up vision it had looked like she was holding one of those packets of electrolyte-vitamin drink. He'd known something was off as soon as he realized that the gritty liquid he was swallowing was bitter rather than vaguely sweet.

But even then, even knowing that he'd screwed up and was in for an unpleasant reaction, he'd been completely unprepared for the way his body rebelled, the way he struggled for air until he passed out, sure he was dying. And then, as glad as he was to have avoided the dying part, he was equally unprepared for the way the miserable ache in his head had escalated to a screaming pain. In the shock and confusion of being taken to the hospital, Neal hadn't been sure for a while that he really was going to be able to live through it. For a few minutes in there, he hadn't been so sure he wanted to.

The sharpest edges of the pain and fear had already begun to wear down by the time Elizabeth Burke showed up and took his hand and talked about being his sister. He thought that he probably should have argued and told her to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Falling asleep under the soft touch of her hands didn't feel like dying, and Neal was relieved to be able to let go.

When he woke, he was in a room that was pleasantly dark compared to the one before, and Peter was saying his name. “Hi,” Neal said, aware enough now to know he sounded like hell. “Should you be here?”

“It’s fine, _George_. The suspects are at home, and we’ve got surveillance to make sure they don’t come back. On the off-chance they check with the staff here, I guess I’m your concerned brother-in-law.”

“That’s a little weird, right?”

“Just a little bit. But it was the best cover story, and El insisted on it. I couldn’t argue too much, considering you're in a public place and safe, relatively. And considering that I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I would’ve been okay.”

“Right. You know, you should’ve told me about your allergy.”

Neal shrugged. “It was never like that before. I didn’t think it mattered that much.”

“Apparently it does.”

Peter was quiet after that, and Neal let his eyes close. His headache was nothing compared to a few hours before, but he was too tired to keep up the conversation. The touch of Peter’s hand on his shoulder caught Neal as he was about to fall back to sleep.

“Look, I’m going to head home. You’ll be safe here, and I’ll pick you up first thing tomorrow morning, bring you back to the house.”

Neal blinked and tried to clear his head. “Wait, your house?”

“My wife gave me very clear instructions. And apparently she already told the suspects not to expect you back at your apartment tomorrow so you may as well just skip the protestations.”

“Elizabeth talked to them?”

“Yeah, I don’t think she was too impressed. I’m just glad they got you help when you needed it—that’ll be something in their favor later on.”

Neal just nodded. The whole situation was more complicated than he felt capable of thinking about at the moment. “Okay,” he said finally.

“Yeah, just rest.” Peter patted Neal’s shoulder then put his hand back on his hip. “If anything happens, the hospital will call El.”

“Thanks,” Neal said, then watched as Peter nodded and left.

Elizabeth Burke certainly wasn’t his sister, but Neal thought that maybe it wasn’t a complete lie, maybe he did have a kind of family in Peter and Elizabeth, the kind of family he’d never really known. And sure, he _could_ go back undercover in the morning but he was more grateful than he’d want to admit that he didn’t have to put his game face back on that quickly. As he closed his eyes and listened to the faint hospital noises, Neal thought again about how it had felt, his whole body revving up and shutting down in equal measures, being brought back to life with his brain on fire, the world made up of pain, of light and noise and the taste of bile.

Then he thought about the difference between being liked by people who didn’t know him at all and being accepted (maybe even loved, though Neal tried to steer his mind from that word) by people who knew more about him than he sometimes wished, even if it wasn't every ugly truth. It was complicated. Regular life, it turned out, was more complicated than even the most intricate con. Neal hoped he was up to the job.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has timestamps [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2166360/chapters/4737372) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2166360/chapters/4737375).


End file.
